


Chapter 13: Maybe

by dc_comic_girl



Series: The Story of Mickey Milkovich [13]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, POV Mickey, POV Mickey Milkovich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dc_comic_girl/pseuds/dc_comic_girl
Summary: Mickey is back in juvie for his second time in a year, and without Ian's letters or visits to distract him, he's going fuckin' nuts thinking of what could be going on back home.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Terry Milkovich & The Milkoviches
Series: The Story of Mickey Milkovich [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1326674
Comments: 24
Kudos: 77





	Chapter 13: Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, it's me. So, I'm not even sure I have any readers left, seeing as I haven't posted since August (I honestly didn't realize it had been so long). I had to take an actuarial exam in November and after I passed I got a promotion which requires me to move across the country, so it's been kinda a wild 5 months. That being said, I'm sorry I kept you all hanging so long. 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry this chapter is so short. It was mostly just a warm up to try and find my writer's voice again. Don't worry, the next one will be much longer and will involve a lot more in person Ian and Mickey. 
> 
> As always, there are opinions expressed by characters in this piece, that I, the author, do not share. Please know that no matter what your sexuality, race, gender, etc. you are very much deserving of love and you are not deserving of hate. 
> 
> Also, I don't own the characters and I guess minor spoilers for Of Mice and Men, To Kill a Mockingbird, Tale of Two Cities, and Wuthering Heights.

There were no letters this time. No visits through glass; no reassuring words of Mandy’s safety. No one told Mickey he was missed.

There was no sign of Ian Gallagher.

Mickey wasn’t exactly surprised by this. When last they spoke, Mickey had shot from the hip. He had told Ian exactly what was going on between them – qualifying their relationship beyond a shadow of a doubt.

It was just sex.

Mickey didn’t care about Ian, and he had fuckin’ told him so. The boy could be replaced by any number of south side skanks, or a left hand in a pinch. They weren’t in a relationship. They couldn’t be, because Mickey wasn’t _gay_.

It was a good thing that Ian hadn’t come by, really. A sign that the boy had gotten over his faggy, childish crush. He had probably moved on and grown up. Maybe he was off banging some girls, fucking the queer out of his system. It was a _good_ thing.

 _Unless it isn’t_ , a voice at the back of his mind would whisper, when left unchecked. _Unless Frank blabbed and Terry shot him and dumped him in the river._

The voice kept him awake at night. Mickey knew, better than most, how far Terry would go – the lengths to which he would go to rid Chicago of its cock-sucking infestation. He _would_ kill Ian. He would if he knew.

 _But so what?_ Mickey would remind himself. _It would be Gallagher’s own fault if Terry offed him for not letting you kill Frank._

This was never a convincing enough argument, so Mickey would be forced to remind himself further that Ian had been perfectly comfortable risking Mickey’s life in order to save Frank’s. Frank – the burden to the Gallagher household and the state of Illinois – who was more important to Ian than Mickey.

 _He thought he could save you both_ , the voice would argue. _He’s just naïve like that._

Maybe this was true. Ian did have a wide-eyed innocence about him, so rarely seen in their neighbourhood. He didn’t just want the best from people – he expected it. It was how he saw Frank. It was how he saw Lip. Hell, it was how he saw Mickey.

Maybe it was how he saw Terry, too. Maybe he thought Mickey had exaggerated how Terry would react to finding out about them. Maybe he thought “my dad will kill me himself” meant that Terry would grumble begrudgingly and then move on. Maybe Ian thought Mickey was blowing everything out of proportion or just being dramatic.

The thought made Mickey snort out a humourless laugh. There was no exaggeration. If Terry ever knew, he’d kill them both.

_Maybe he’s half done._

_Or maybe he’s not_ , he’d counter. Maybe Mickey simply wasn’t as important a fixture in the ginger’s life as he thought. Maybe once Ian found out that what Mickey had to offer wasn’t the stuff of great romance, he was able to shrug off the entire affair. Maybe Ian has moved on and forgotten all about him.

With no contact from the outside world, “maybes” were all Mickey was left with, but all logic only lead him to two options: Ian was dead, or he didn’t give a shit about Mickey.

Both thoughts made his stomach tighten.

He couldn’t explain it. He had thought it so often it had become something akin to a mantra: he didn’t give a shit about Ian; it was just sex. So, he couldn’t understand why the thought of Ian fucking some other guy in the back of the Kash and Grab made him want to shank someone in the throat.

Still, of the two possible explanations for Ian’s perpetual lack of communication, the fact that Ian just didn’t give a shit about him was the preferred.

This stint at Juvie had been a significant deviation from his first. Without having to hobble around on crutches like some fuckin’ gimp, Mickey had been able to demand a little more respect in the joint. Word had spread that he had violated probation by punching a cop, unprovoked, and his reputation had developed an “unhinged maniac” caveat, which made most other inmates steer clear. He was often able to eat alone at lunch and had not had one incident of anyone attempting to steal his dessert.

With the extra alone time, Mickey was able to work out and jack-off in peace. As the monotony of incarceration set in, Mickey even found himself in the library at times, behind the shelves where the fat, old librarian couldn’t see him, reading a novel and smoking a cigarette.

It wasn’t so much a thirst for knowledge, Mickey realized while finishing off Of Mice and Men, but a desire to be the Mickey Ian had seen that night in the dugout. Some idealized mirror of himself who took vocational classes and became a useful contributor to society.

“Redemption tale,” the boy had said.

 _Yeah, maybe for people who got a future_ , he thought, as George pulled the trigger.

Classic novels, Mickey quickly realized, were bleak as shit. Even the happy endings had Atticus losing the trial or Carton getting his head chopped off.

He had only gotten halfway through Wuthering Heights when Mickey started having dreams of Ian, more pale than normal and kinda translucent, banging at the window on his door and tryna get in. He often had a bullet hole between his eyes or a long slit across his throat, and Mickey would wake up in a cold sweat. It was around this time that Mickey decided the books were providing less of a distraction and more of a fun and creative means for his anxieties to manifest. He burned the book with his contraband lighter and silently vowed to not read anything else for the rest of his stay in the joint. LeVar Burton could kiss his ass.

Without the books to kill time, however, Mickey did wonder how he was going to make it another four months. There were only so many hours a day you could spend working out, and the centre was getting increasingly crowded with boys who had committed increasingly more heinous offenses than he had.

He was lying on his bunk one afternoon, debating the pros and cons of stabbing one of the new inmates, just to remind everyone he wasn’t someone to be fucked with, when a letter slid under his closed door. He hauled himself off the lumpy mattress and walked over to pick it up. He felt hope in his chest ignite. _“Hey Mick, I realized you let my dad live like I asked you to, so thanks for that. Sorry I was so ungrateful for you putting your fuckin’ neck on the line for me (again). Also, Mandy and I are totally safe and Terry doesn’t suspect anything. See you at visiting hours!”_

By the time Mickey had made it to the door, he realized the letter was far too official looking to be from Ian and the hope dulled. Making an exception to his ban on reading, Mickey ripped the envelope open and slid out the letter.

It stated simply and clearly that he was eligible for parole and would go before the committee tomorrow morning. Mickey was fairly confident this had far less to do with his behaviour and far more to do with the state not wanting to pay for his vacation in the big house any longer than they had to – especially with the influx of fresh meat.

It didn’t matter. For the first time in months, Mickey felt himself looking forward to something. Maybe this place had just been getting under his skin, and he was overreacting. Maybe he would get out and Ian and Mandy would be safe and Terry wouldn’t know shit and everything could go back to normal. Maybe Ian would be waiting for him.

Maybe everything was going to be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you anyone who is still reading - I truly appreciate you. Not the best or longest chapter, but I promise I will get better. Just need to get out of math mode and back into Shameless mode :P 
> 
> Check out my tumblr @dc-comic-girl for updates!
> 
> I love it when people comment! I read every one!


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